Aftermath
by Kirixchi
Summary: The Malfoys were huddled together in the hall, looking as though they didn't belong. What happens next.


**AFTERMATH**

The sounds of battle were falling silent. The sizzle and crack of spells that had echoed through the hall in a semi-constant roar were all but ended now. The cackles and screams of rage and fear were fading, replaced by moans of pain and sobs of grief.

Narcissa Malfoy tightened her arms around her husband and son, willfully blotting out everything but the warmth of their bodies and the rasp of their breath.

The Dark Lord had fallen. The Death Eaters were defeated. Her sister was dead. Narcissa had registered all of these things. Only the latter inspired a twinge of pain or regret- and that was only a pinprick, a _nothing_ compared to her relief at finding herself here with Lucius and Draco now.

They were alive! Their enslavement had ended! It was almost too much to believe- and so she didn't, at least at first. Narcissa tamped down the bubble of joy that wanted to swell in heart and closed her eyes. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She scarcely dared to breathe lest she shatter this fragile, perfect moment of peace.

It was Lucius who broke the stillness. He twisted his head to look over his shoulder. Narcissa glanced up when she felt the movement, and she watched his expression. Lucius scanned the great hall, taking in the other clutches of witches and wizards huddled together, and the bodies strewn across the floor, and finally meeting his wife's gaze.

She had known him so long, and so well that she read the look as easily as if he had spoken aloud:

_What now_? _Do we stay? Do we leave? Where will we go?_

She didn't answer at once. It was starting to sink in that this was real, that they were still alive, that they were still free- but Narcissa's sense of safety was waning. She followed her husband's example and examined their surroundings, recognizing at once that they didn't belong here. All of the other Death Eaters were missing or dead. Surely it was only a matter of time before they were noticed? Someone would recognize them. Someone would want to blame them, and no one was likely to listen to their excuses in the grim misery of the Hall.

She felt a prickle of fear and instinctively reached into her pocket, but it was empty.

"Draco," Narcissa whispered urgently. "Draco- my wand!"

The boy blinked slowly, looking as though he was coming out of a trance. He seemed far younger than his seventeen years as he faced his mother, his expression miserable and ashamed. "I-I lost it."

"Lost it?" Narcissa choked. A tangle of emotions surged through her body: fury, sadness, disappointment- and fear. Lucius was wandless too. They were all but helpless against the witches and wizards around them. She tensed, and then exhaled slowly, forcibly pushing her feelings aside. There wasn't time now for mourning or recrimination. There was only time to act.

Some of the others were beginning to stir and mill around. A few had begun collecting the corpses, levitating them to the side of the hall and arranging the limbs in postures of peaceful repose.

Of course, no one was tending the bodies of the Dark Lord's followers- and that was where Narcissa saw their chance.

"Lucius- there!" she hissed, jabbing her finger toward a corner where Walden MacNair was slumped against the stones- his wand still held in his lifeless fist.

They moved slowly toward him, not daring to run, lest they call attention to themselves. Narcissa's heart beat high and fast in her chest until the second that her husband's fingers closed around the slender piece of yew.

"Dolohov," Lucius said in a hoarse whisper and gestured with his hand. The second man was lying a little bit apart from his comrade, slumped forward, his wand buried under his heavy body. Nevertheless, it flew to Lucius's fingertips with a simple _accio_ charm. He offered it to his wife- but she shook her head.

Lucius frowned as he passed the wand to Draco, but didn't comment. They moved on, toward the front of the room. Lucius paused by the body of a little Ravenclaw girl that hadn't been collected yet. He lifted his wand.

"No."

Lucius blinked, surprised by his wife's denial. "Narcissa-?"

"_Bella_," she answered, the thought occurring to her only as she spoke the name aloud. She would have her sister's wand.

Lucius opened his mouth. Narcissa could almost hear the protest hovering on the tip of his tongue. She knew what he would say. She was being reckless and sentimental. Any wand would do. They needed to go. It was nothing more than the truth.

She was astonished when he didn't speak, but shut his mouth and dipped his chin in submission instead.

"Over there."

Narcissa looked in the direction that her husband had indicated- on the other side of the hall where Bellatrix's scarlet robes and black hair were draped across the Slytherin table like a curtain of blood and ink.

"_Accio-!_"

Narcissa raised her hand to her husband's forearm and pushed it down. She couldn't imagine that Bellatrix's wand would obey a summons. She didn't want to see if it did.

"Wait here," she said in a constricted whisper, and didn't linger to hear his protest before she rushed away.

Lucius disobeyed her order. He followed her like a shadow, dragging Draco in their wake, but Narcissa didn't turn to acknowledge their presence. She didn't stop until she reached her sister. Then, at the first brush of her fingertips against the fine velvet robes, her momentum was lost. Her body stiffened, rooted to the spot by shock and some other emotion that she couldn't - or wouldn't- name.

_I don't love my sister…_

Narcissa felt the words so strongly that she might have spoken them aloud. She didn't dare to examine whether or not they were true. Her pulse thundered as they echoed through her mind again and again, interspersed with memories of Bellatrix that curled through her mind like brambles: tangled, wild and barbed. There was never any sweetness without pain.

"_Narcissa…_" Lucius's voice broke through her thoughts. It was tense and warning, and goaded his wife to action. The sounds in the great hall were changing again. An angry buzz was building. She had to hurry.

Narcissa pushed on her sister's shoulder, rolling her onto her back. Bellatrix's eyes were open, bulging beneath their heavy lids and clearly betraying that her last emotion on earth had been disbelief. She was _astonished _ that the Weasley woman could best her. Narcissa felt a wave of pity, and then contempt. Bellatrix had died as selfishly as she lived, consumed with a lust for power and glory and her precious dark lord.

Narcissa doubted that her dying sister had spared a thought for her husband- poor Rodolphus who had loved her so slavishly- or all of the other ruin that she had left behind. Of course Bellatrix wouldn't have- but Narcissa did. Narcissa had always known how much there was to lose- and it had saved her in the end.

Narcissa reached for the wand, prying it from her sister's claw-like fingers, and then she turned away without saying goodbye.

"We have to go."

Lucius nodded, relieved. The worried look in his sunken eyes betrayed his opinion that they had lingered too long. He clutched his new wand in one hand, vigilant for attack, and twined the other in Narcissa's own as he led her to the door. Draco fell into step behind his parents as they hurried out of the great hall, toward the gates and toward freedom- at least for now.

This wasn't the end. The euphoria of unexpected survival had not blinded Narcissa to the fact that this was a reprieve and not yet an escape. Voldemort was gone, but the Aurors would come, and then the Wizengamut. There were other enemies too. The Malfoy explanations might not be enough to save them from Azkaban this time. She didn't know what the future might hold- but for the first time in years, she could face it with a flicker of hope.

**THE END**


End file.
